A Long Night
by Lilac Deserts
Summary: England ponders what his place with France is. /This is my first story thingy, so please don't judge me too hard! I don't own Hetalia.
1. What am I to you?

Arthur lie in bed, next to his.. enemy? He couldn't tell at this point. Their discarded clothes were strewn about the room; Arthur's trousers being the only ripped article of clothes this time. Usually they would have to bring mulitple sets of clothing, both being too eager to ravish the other's body. Both too eager to throw out insults as they ran their hands over each other.

What if they did start sobbing out ''I love you''s while getting pounded into by the other? What if they did compliment each other on their eyes or their bodies afterward? So what? It meant nothing to either of them.. Just a reflex, Arthur would say. Your body's the one I'm confessing to, Francis would say in turn.

Francis had just said his goodnight to Arthur before turning off the lamp by the nightstand- Leaving Arthur in complete darkness while the Frenchman had his back to him.

Arthur gave a shaky exhale, pondering on where he stood with his long term acquantince. Were they friends? Enemies? Friends with benefits? Why did they keep on shagging each other and not talk about it the next day?

_ Arthur shivered as Francis ran his cold, slender fingers up and down his frame, whispering dirty things he would do to the Brit in his ear. ''Maybe I should tie you up? Pleasure you until you beg me for release, to which I will reply 'no'? Or should I fuck you until you can't walk; trembling on useless legs?" _

Arthur tried to get the memories out of his head. He didn't want to get a boner just as Francis had fallen into what looked like a peaceful sleep. Arthur chose to instead remember older times; Times where things were far much simpler.

_ Arthur walked into the ballroom, searching for a certain man. He spotted him flirting with a few women, who were wearing gowns of bright colors, looking like the rest of the dancing flowers in the room. _

_ ''Arthur.'' Francis looked quite friendly when he looked over at the other nation to an outsider. But that look hid spite and hatred underneath, Arthur knew from years of this look directed to him._

_ ''Can I talk to you for a moment, Bonnefoy?" Arthur spat out Francis's name like it was poison. Not even his first name, at that! But Francis just nodded and led Arthur to a room upstairs that no one was in._

_Then, there was the fight._

_ Arthur had been the first to throw a punch, hearing a slight crack when he landed it on the Frenchman's gut, but he wasn't concerned at all. Then, Francis started fighting back. It was no use, though, because Arthur had Francis to the ground and pinned in a matter of minutes._

_ He had this sadistic look on his face; Pleased by seeing Francis so.. scared. Like a wounded animal. _

_ ''..I hate you, you know that?" Arthur leaned in close to Francis's ear, whispering. ''You look like a rabbit. So petrified and so weak.'' _

As Arthur thought back on this, he realized that there had been nothing to evoke anger in him. No reason for him to have attacked Francis at his own party.

The British man felt himself mentally trapped in his own guilt. If he thought more, he could probably name many more times that he attacked Francis without evotiction. Why did he just now feel guilty about this? Why did he feel guilty about this in general?!

Did Arthur consider Francis a friend? Is that why he felt so bad? Or maybe did he consider the obnixious sex-obsessed country something more?

Arthur frowned to himself, begging his mind to let him sleep and shut up about Francis. He just sighed before whispering a goodnight to himself. Darkness soon soothed his body to sleep and his eyes to close.


	2. What are you to me?

Arthur woke up to his fingers holding onto the lingering heat of the sheets where Francis had been. A yawn later and Arthur smelled the air. Good, the frog was making breakfast. He was quite hungry, after all. The only thing, though, that he didn't like about these mornings was that they both ignored what they said during them afterwards. It was like all of their conversations disappeared from Francis's memory and only stuck in Arthur's.

Sighing, the Brit sat up, popping his back from stretching a bit. He looked around for his clothes, accidently putting on one of Francis's shirts. He made his way downstairs tiredly, slowly stepping down each step carefully, just to not fall. Arthur made his way down to the kitchen, his arrival causing Francis to look over to the doorway.

The Frenchman looked about to say something, but shut his mouth. He opened it again and smiled a little, ''You're wearing one of my shirts.''  
Arthur wasn't awake enough to come up with an excuse or even get flustered. He went over to the table, murmuring, ''Sorry. 's the first thing I saw.''

''Well, you'll have to change into something else.'' Francis said, turning his head back to his cooking, ''The world meeting is today.''

Arthur groaned, ''Why do we even have to have world meetings? They're so bloody useless; Nothing ever gets done.''

''Now, Angleterre, you know well how upset our bosses would be if we both didn't show up. Or if any of the world showed up.''

''Yes, I know, but I've always got a headache by the end of the meetings.''

''Oh, speaking of headaches, Seychelles has invited us both to a party with her friends.''

''How many people are going and who is going?"

''Well, she said Amérique will be there. Along with Italie, Japan, and Germany. Though she also said the Nordics will probably come as well.''

''Tell her I'm not interested when you get the chance, alright?"

Francis sighed, and Arthur could practically hear the frown in his tone, ''You never get out, Angleterre. You've started to worry me with how much you isolate yourself.''

''I-I come over here sometimes!" Arthur tried to defend himself.

''That only worries me more.'' Francis admitted, ''We bicker and argue and we're both at each other's throats everywhere except here. You're barely anywhere except here.''

''France, I come over here for sex. That's it. I do not come over here to hear about you worrying over me. I am my own nation and I take care of myself socially and physically fine!" Arthur raised his voice.

''You're _not_ fine! Bon Dieu, I can tell!" Francis shouted back, ''Years and years of knowing you- You expect me _not_ to worry for you? You expect me_ not_ to know when something is _wrong_?"

''I expect you to bloody hate me! I expect you to want to kill me, torture me, anything! But here you go going off on how bloody worried you are about me! You're confusing me, damnit! We fuck, then we argue all fucking day, then we fuck again and act like we're friends!" Arthur didn't even realize he was sobbing until his sniffled.

Francis had come over to Arthur, pulling him up to his chest, cradling his head. Arthur took fistfuls of Francis's shirt, burying his face in the calming scent of roses and other colognes.

''..What am I to you..?" Arthur whispered, as though Francis would go away if he raised his voice again, ''What are we to each other?"

Francis answered in a calm voice, ''We are enemies as nations, tearing each other down in front of others. But we also are friends- We've helped each other as Arthur and Francis through many things. I.. You've been my dearest friend for a while, Arthur. I hope I'm the same to you.''

Arthur felt a weight lift off his chest hearing that. Finally having an answer to his question. But at the same time, his heart tore. He didn't know why, but he started sobbing harder, collapsing in Francis's arms.  
Francis just held him, trying his best to soothe him by rubbing circles on his back. He had brought them both over to the couch sometime in Arthur's rantings.

Francis's shushes made Arthur calm down, but also fall asleep.

And once again, Arthur is confused of what he wants to be with Francis.


	3. Why am I like this?

Arthur awoke to a silent house. There was a blanket set over him and he was lying on the couch. He sat up, a note catching his eye from the coffee table. Picking up the note, Arthur quickly skimmed over it.

'Dear England,' The note started off, 'I called your boss and told them you were sick, so you didn't have to go to the world meeting. I'm at it right now, if I'm not there by the time you wake up. You just seemed in very bad shape- We need to talk when I get back home. Sincerely, Fr' Arthur stopped reading.

''That bloody frog let me miss a world meeting! He lied to my boss! He- That absolute wanker!" Arthur practically threw a tantrum. He tore the note up into tiny pieces until he was satisfied.

After all, missing a world meeting and having another nation call you in to your boss as sick.. That meant you had to stay with the nation who called you in. And Arthur didn't want to stay in this.. prison. A prison where Arthur felt cornered by Francis. He was going to have to talk about why he cried for finally having an answer of what the frog thought of him. Francis would probably demand an answer of what Arthur thought of him.

To be honest, Arthur was terrified.

He wasn't prepared to be asked questions he didn't know the answers to.

So Arthur quickly gathered his papers, clothes, and everything else he had brought in preparation for the world meeting in France.

Then, he left the house.

Arthur was planning to go back to his hotel, where he felt much safer. During the whole walk there, since Arthur hadn't brought his wallet over to Francis's house, he was filled with anxiety about his decision. Would Francis just tell Arthur's boss about what happened? No. Because the frog would have to confess he lied. But the Brit could still be blamed because Francis could just turn all the attention and fault to him.

Arthur finally arrived at his hotel- Then realized he had been sharing a room with his brothers. His brothers were sure to tattle. So, Arthur went to the front desk.

''Um, hello, could I get a new room? I was sharing before, but something happened and-''

The person at the front desk just gave him a new key. ''Sure. I understand it, family problems, correct?" They interupted in accented English.

Arthur nodded, 'Sure, let's go with that,' He thought.

Arthur thanked the person then started making his way to his new room. His cellphone started blowing up, though, when he got there.

He answered his phone, and got greeted by a yell of, ''ANGLETERRE! WHERE ARE YOU?"

..So Arthur hung up, not even responding. He didn't want to speak with Francis right now. Or ever again, for that matter. Arthur probably made things awkward between them! Francis had given Arthur an answer to their relationship, yet Arthur felt it was still.. wrong? Not an answer? Well, he didn't know.

All he knew was that Francis would be mad now.

Ah fuck, why did he have to go and run away? Arthur could've just told Francis he didn't want to talk right now, but he just had to go and be a coward.

Arthur collapsed on his bed, blaming himself for everything that had just happened.

Little did he know, Francis would actually seek him out.


End file.
